Mistakenly Yours: Contract Marriage With The Billionaire-Chapter 141: Trying to shield her

Chapter 141: Trying to shield her
Adam stood alone on the shadowed terrace, the night air carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden below. Moonlight filtered through the overhead trellis, casting silver patterns across the stone floor. He drew deeply on his cigarette as he exhaled a thin plume of smoke into the darkness, seeking solace in an old habit he’d promised himself he’d quit.
A sudden tug at his lips startled him. Sara’s hand darted out, plucking the cigarette from his mouth before he could react. She flicked it to the ground and ground it beneath her heel.
"Dad," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his. "You shouldn’t smoke. It’s terrible for your health, we both know that."
Without a word, she knelt gracefully, picking up the crumpled butt between her fingers. She rose and tossed it into the nearby bin, brushing her hands together before returning to his side.
For a moment, they stood in silence. Then Sara’s voice cut through the quiet.
"Dad... Why did you never tell me that my mother left us on purpose? That she chose to walk away?"
Adam’s brow furrowed, the cigarette pack in his hand forgotten as he turned to her. "Did she tell you that?"
Sara shook her head, leaving him even more puzzled.
"No," she said, her gaze drifting to the moonlit garden. "I looked into her life myself, what she’s been doing all these years." She took a breath, steadying herself. Though Luca had told her the details, but she read the document shared by Fabio on Luca’s tablet, finding out even more dark secrets.
"The exact time she left us... That’s when she suddenly married some wealthy businessman in France. He’s dead now, and she inherited everything. But she also spent years in prison, for fraud, embezzlement, things I never imagined. All this time, I had this perfect image of her in my head. I told myself she was troubled, overwhelmed by the divorce, that she had no choice but to leave me behind. But that wasn’t the truth at all, was it? She chose her new life over us. Why did you hide it from me, Dad?"
"You were so young, Sara. Barely old enough to understand what abandonment even meant. I couldn’t bear to shatter whatever fragile hope you had about her." He paused, the words tasting bitter.
"I wanted you to have a mother’s love, something I couldn’t give you alone. That’s why I tried again... Why I dated, why I married Marcella. I thought she could be that for you. I truly believed I could build a family where you felt whole. But I ignored the cracks, the tension between you two, the way it hurt you. I kept hoping one day you’d accept each other. I’m sorry. I failed you there."
Sara reached out, her hand resting gently on his arm. Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight.
"Stop apologizing, Dad. Please." She squeezed his arm lightly. "Marcella wasn’t good to me. I know that, and I’ll never forget it. But she was good to you in her own way. She stood by you when you needed someone. And even though she turned a blind eye to her children’s schemes, knowing full well she could have stopped them..."
She trailed off, searching his face.
Adam cut her off sharply, his voice rough with finality. "No." He met her gaze, pain etched deep in his eyes. "Whatever was there... All that’s left now is betrayal and pain. And after what you said to me that day, I realized I was indeed not a good father to Diego and Frida."
A hopeful smile crept across Adam’s lips, softening the weary lines around his eyes as he gazed out into the moonlit garden.
"I’ve made up my mind," he said. "I’m going to focus on the company again. Since you don’t want to return to it, I’ll step in the operations, check on the departments, make sure everything’s running as it should."
Sara’s heart clenched at the resolve in his words. She turned fully toward him, shaking her head gently but firmly.
"No, Dad," she said, her tone earnest and unwavering. "I’ll give the company back to you. I promise. It’s yours, it always has been."
Adam’s smile faded into something sadder, more protective. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with the tenderness of a father who’d spent years trying to shield her from the world he himself had built.
"No, sweetheart," he murmured. "I won’t put that burden on you again. You’ve carried enough."
Sara’s eyes glistened, but her voice didn’t waver. "Dad, I’m the one who lost it. Let me be the one to bring it back. Please... Don’t refuse me this."
Before he could protest further, she reached for his hands, cradling them gently in hers. They were rough, calloused from decades of relentless work, the skin weathered by late nights, tough decisions, and the quiet sacrifices he’d made long before she ever understood them.
Feeling the familiar texture beneath her fingers brought a sudden rush of memories: childhood days when those same hands had lifted her onto his shoulders, signed school permission slips, or gripped the steering wheel on long drives while he worried silently about the empire he was building for her future.
A lump rose in her throat. All these years, those hands had carried the weight of everything, of loss, of grief, of raising her alone, of trying to rebuild a family.
She squeezed them tighter. "Let me do this for you, Dad. For us."
"Alright," Adam agreed with a broad smile.
"Now, you should go to bed. Luca must be waiting for me. Good night, Sara said with a warm smile and walked away.
~~~~
In the bedroom, Luca stopped by the wall photos of Sara as a little girl, laughing wildly on Adam’s shoulders during some long-ago summer holiday, her small hands tangled in his hair.
Another frame captured her standing tall beside Katherine at a formal event, both of them radiating pride.
And then the later ones, family portraits that included Marcella and her children. In those, Sara stood a little apart, her smile polite, the kind that never quite reached her eyes.
Luca’s heart twisted at the sight. He remembered those years too well, where Sara would share about her family dynamics with him.
His gaze drifted to the tall glass cupboard against the opposite wall. Inside, row upon row of trophies gleamed softly. Gold cups, silver plaques, ribbons in faded school colors.
Each one told a story of late-night studying and her fierce determination to win. Debate trophies, academic awards, science fair medals were all the evidence of the brilliant girl Sara had always been.
A tender smile curved Luca’s lips as the memories rushed in. Middle school had been their battlefield. Every test, every ranking, every certificate ceremony had sparked a fiery rivalry between them. He could still hear her indignant gasp when he’d beaten her by a single point in math, or see the sadness gleam in her eyes when she’d claimed second place in the regional debate while he took first.
They’d pushed each other relentlessly, grinning through the competition, secretly excited by how evenly matched they were.
But then, somewhere along the way, maybe seventh or eighth grade, he’d started holding back.
In contests where the format favored her strengths, or where he knew the judges adored her poise, he’d ease off just enough to let her shine.
He’d told himself it was nothing, just strategy. But the truth was simpler, and far more telling that he started liking Sara. Even then, he hadn’t wanted to watch her face fall in defeat. Not because of him.
"Are you thinking something?" Sara’s soft voice reached his ears. He tilted his head slightly and she stood beside him, her head leaning on her shoulder.
"Guess my favorite one," Sara said.
"Umm... The one in which you came first. The national debate competition in high school," Luca replied.
"No," Sara refused, smiling.
"What?" Luca couldn’t believe he guessed wrong. "You always fought for first position. You even gave me the picture of this trophy while hugging it to sleep."
"What? When did I send you such a picture? Of my god! How naive I could be to send you my picture?" Sara muttered, mumbling words that didn’t reach his ears.
Luca chuckled. "You liked me back then. It was obvious for you to send me your picture. At the same time, you wanted me to feel jealous of you," he explained.
Sara recalled her emotions from that time. "Ah, you’re right."
"So, which one is your favorite among them?" Luca asked.
"The one at the center," Sara replied. "We both were in a team. It was the first time I was paired with you. We defeated the students from the rival schools in a science project competition. I was so happy that way because we stood first."
She turned her head to him, her eyes shining.